Nathan stepped down from the coach and approached the heavy oak doors of St. Augustus. Its imposing Victorian exterior cast a shadow over the town, reminding him of the weight of its history. Once the law had come around, its use of human remains for medical research was no longer cause for scorn. The hospital had become an image of progress, on the cutting edge of science, always willing to push the limits of what modern medicine could achieve.
Inside, a woman with her blonde hair tucked into a white nurse's cap awaited him behind the reception desk.
"I'm here for the study with Dr. Ivanov." He held out the newspaper clipping that had caught his attention:
"Seeking strange and Peculiar People. Anomalies. Medical mysteries. Birth defects, deformities, and otherwise irregularities to the human form. Seek Dr. Anthony Ivanov at St. Augustus to participate in a well-paid research opportunity."
"Please, make yourself comfortable," she said, "and someone will be out to collect you shortly." She gave him a curt nod in the direction of several long couches, where a few men read newspapers and smoked.
Nathan had never picked up the habit himself—he needed something to steady his nerves, not excite them.
He took a seat and reclined on a couch opposite a woman who was tapping her foot nervously under dark layers of skirts. He wondered if she, too, was here to see Dr. Ivanov. She didn't look very peculiar. But then again, from the outside, neither did Nathan.
But it seemed that Dr. Ivanov's advert had attracted other oddities. One man, he noticed, was folding and unfolding a claw-like prosthesis in his lap, which disappeared into his coat sleeve. A woman—a giantess—sat alone at the end of the waiting room, smoking a pipe that looked pencil-thin in her hands. Even while she was seated, Nathan could estimate her height at over seven feet.
When the woman returned his sidelong glance, he shifted uncomfortably. They must be wondering too what had brought him here, what abnormalities they couldn't see under his suit jacket and tie. He had spent much of his life feeling thinly separated from the circus sideshow, and now sat among the very people he had convinced himself he was nothing like.
Of course, this was what Dr. Ivanov had asked for, and Nathan had recognized himself between the lines of the advert. He was not quite deformed, a strangeness not yet visible at birth, but certainly an anomaly. Certainly irregular.
He had been ambivalent about the study at first, especially given how little he knew about it. But it was his own curiosity that had driven him forward. He had been aware of his peculiarities all his life, but had never had anyone to confide in. He thought that maybe Dr. Ivanov could help him understand his inner workings. And perhaps there were other patients out there like him, who lived quiet, solitary lives, without the hope of wider understanding. The idea of finally sharing what had been his closest-kept secret terrified him, and at the same time made him deliciously excited.
The generous stipend didn't hurt, either. It would pay for his tuition next year, and he figured he could send some home to his family, and might that way make peace with them.
In the time it took for his name to be called, Nathan tried on several different positions that communicated confidence and ease, the least of which he felt. The clock on the wall ticked ominously. The hospital had a distinct lack of smell, which he thought must be due to the orderlies who diligently mopped at the tile floor. The air of calm made him somehow uneasy.
When a nurse came through the swinging doors for him, Nathan nearly leapt from his seat, but slowed his gait to meet her. He followed her down the hall. Her shoes, with their low, sturdy heels, clipped across the tile. The corridor was so long and empty that he could hear her dress and apron rustling against her ankles.
Across the hall, another nurse folded sheets in a room of empty beds. She caught Nathan's eye momentarily—a sharp, fleeting dash of something both warning and anticipatory.
The nurse turned the corner and pushed open the door to an examination room. He faced a brown leather chair, which seemed to joint in several places. The walls were an antiseptic white, and one corner of the room was occupied by a counter and shelf, holding jars of familiar and unfamiliar objects: wooden tongue depressors, cotton swabs, and stopped vials of indiscernible contents.
She handed him a square of thin fabric. "Undress, please. And put this on."
"Undress?" He had expected this first meeting with Dr. Ivanov to consist of an interview or a feat of lengthy paperwork. At the very least, he expected to be told what the experiment would entail, since on this topic, he was still in the dark. The advert had not exactly been forthcoming.
"Yes," the nurse said. She was young and pretty, and wore just a hint of makeup on her eyelids. She smiled at him sweetly, the way she might a child who had asked a very stupid question. "Take everything off, please. Take a seat when you're ready, and the doctor will be in to see you shortly."
With that, she left Nathan alone in the room.
He hadn't expected things to move so quickly, and briefly wondered what he had gotten himself into. But he had known this would happen eventually, hadn't he? He had questions, and the doctor was unlikely to be able to answer them without getting a closer look.
Nathan was often able to forget about his difference, so long as he remained clothed. He was even able to fit into his all-male dormitory without raising suspicions. But when there was nothing between his skin and that curtain of cloth, so thin it was almost translucent, he had no choice but to face the facts.
He slipped the gown on quickly, and found that it came down just above his knees. He also found that it did not close all the way at the back, leaving him partially exposed. This he tried to remedy by sitting down in the examination chair. Even then, the gown did little in the way of protecting him against the chilly hospital air, and he was painfully aware of his bare backside pressed against the cold leather.
He waited for what felt like hours. At long last, the doctor announced himself with a tap on the door. Then, the door swung inwards.
"Mr. Sharp..." He came in with his eyes perusing his clipboard. "...Is it?" He flipped through a few pages, then looked up. The doctor was a stout man with slicked black hair and thick, round glasses that gave Nathan the impression of a bug. He was dressed in a smart gray suit.
He took a seat across from Nathan and extended a hand, revealing black hair under the cuff of his suit jacket. "Dr. Ivanov. I assume you responded to my advert in the paper."
"I did," Nathan said. "I was intrigued to hear about your research."
Dr. Ivanov quirked an eyebrow and smiled. "And I take it you know what I'm looking for."
"Actually, no. The ad was a little vague in that regard." Nathan shifted. "But from what I read, I think I may be a good candidate."
"Is that so?"
"Yes." Nathan cleared his throat. He had gone over the words carefully several times. The way he explained himself was important. "You see, I thought you might understand... This began—"
Dr. Ivanov put up a hand to stop him. "Nathan. Let me tell you a bit about my practice, and how I run my hospital." He made himself comfortable in his seat, resting his chin on his knuckles. "I consider myself a bold explorer of the human anatomy. It is my life's devotion, and I've been perfecting my research methods for decades. There is far more that my own methods of inquisition can tell me than your words can, Mr. Sharp. The body keeps its secrets from all but the most discerning of eyes. I would like to discover what makes you unique," the doctor said. "If you will allow me, of course," he added offhandedly.
Nathan shivered slightly. It was, on the one hand, a relief to not have to explain himself. On the other, he felt the hard scrutiny of Dr. Ivanov's gaze. Could he really entrust his secrets to this doctor, who intended to discover them through his own methods?
